Ardent
by exordia
Summary: For the 30-day nsfw otp challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**day one: naked cuddling **(established relationship)

* * *

Furihata usually sleeps in full-gear: a set of pajamas, a sleeping mask, and ankle-high socks. It's not as if Akashi has ever complained of his attire before, but Furihata sometimes envies how Akashi could simply doze off in a shirt and loose sweatpants. It's a surprise that Akashi never engages into a conversation about Furihata's excess baggage comprising of sleepwear.

At least, not until they've taken lodging at a hotel where the air conditioning happened to be non-functional on the evening of their stay.

"It's unfair," Furihata mumbles into his pillow, his mask still placed over his forehead.

Akashi considers Furihata's appearance and turns away to flick the lights. "It's not my fault that you have quirks when it comes to bedtime."

"They're not quirks. Anyway, it's smoldering hot in here."

Furihata feels a dip in the bed when Akashi settles on his side. "At least take your socks off, Kouki."

"But."

"It's 70 degrees in here, and I assume that you'd rather abandon your clothing than grill yourself alive."

"You don't understand," Furihata props himself on his elbow and almost feels frustrated that Akashi already has his eyes closed. "These are my requirements to hop off to slumberland. Unheard of, yes, but I don't think they're that peculiar."

Akashi opens one eye and says, "Surely you can bend the rules. It's all in your head."

"Sei. If it's necessary for you to have cinnamon in your warm cup of cocoa, then maybe I can indulge in my sleeping habits, too."

Suppressing a groan, Akashi sits up and contemplates for a moment. There's this hesitation to move from what seems to be the perfect position on the mattress, but he stands up anyway and promptly raises his shirt over his head. His sweatpants and boxers follow, ending up on the floor in a pile of clothes.

"It's warm," Akashi states as-a-matter-of-factly and settles on the bed again, neglecting a bewildered Furihata beside him.

"What did you do that for?"

Akashi turns on his side and eyes Furihata closely. "Desperate situations call for desperate measures. I wouldn't exactly say that it's drastic, but I was beginning to think that the material of my clothing was trapping the heat even more."

"It's cotton," Furihata spits in disbelief.

"I still think that you should strip, though," Akashi suggests, his fingers already working on the buttons on Furihata's nightshirt.

Furihata tugs Akashi's hands away. "If you're using this as an excuse to have sex, then I'm finding another hotel. Pass me my phone, please. It's on the bedside desk."

Akashi raises his eyebrows in disapproval. "I'm disappointed. To think that you'd have figured out by now that I never participate in any strenuous activities before an executive meeting...it's unsatisfactory, Kouki."

"And I would think that the president of a company would want to at least keep his undergarments on while he's sleeping," Furihata mutters.

"I'm afraid I have a knack for disproving preconceived notions regarding myself."

"Well, so do I," the defiance in Furihata's expression is unmistakable; he really outdoes himself when it comes to making clear that he's not going to succumb to Akashi, even if he was petrified on their first meeting. "I've been told that I can't stand up to Akashi Seijuuro, yet here we are."

Akashi doesn't bother to purse his lips when a smile forces itself on his mouth. "Yet here we are, indeed."

Before Furihata can don his triumphant beam, Akashi tosses his leg over Furihata's stomach and situates his hands on either side of Furihata's abdomen.

Furihata exhales shakily. "I'm not even going to comment on that thing poking my belly button right now."

"Sure, you aren't," Akashi laughs. The dread only settles in Furihata when he realizes Akashi's intentions, and he tries to pry off the hands that ghost over his ribs and wander back to his hips.

"No. Nonono, Sei, you know I'm going to pee if you-"

Akashi doesn't heed the brunet's warnings, and his hands scuttle along Furihata's sides, making him erupt into giggles and gasps of, "Stop, no not there-"

"We're going to sleep with absolutely nothing on," Akashi says in the midst of his efforts to control a squirming Furihata and to tickle him even more. "It's excessively warm, and I'll have none of your peculiarities when it comes to sleepwear. I don't want you getting hyperthermia."

"No-wait, okay, stop tickling me there-a heat stroke? You're not serious, are you?"

Akashi purses his lips.

Finally, Furihata catches both of Akashi's wrists, and he pants. "Fi...ne. It's your fault if we get cold in the morning."

"There's the option of body warmth," Akashi replies, quite satisfied with himself. He begins to strip Furihata away of any clothing that he has. "I won't try anything. You have my word."

"Really, now."

"Really."

* * *

Somehow they end up all skin and arms and legs weaving through each other, breaths fanning the other's cheeks. A shiver runs over Furihata's spine at 4 am and he instinctively reaches for the covers. Still asleep, he situates his head in the crook of Akashi's neck and mumbles a "Mmmm" before letting his hands wander and encircle Akashi's hips again.

They are late for the meeting, but there's no apprehension. Akashi can always call it off and earn himself an indicator of his lack of professionalism whenever he has Furihata around.

Even if they do distribute great coffee during the meeting, there isn't anything better than lacing his fingers through Furihata's and knowing that even in his sleep, he is not alone.

**day one - end**

* * *

_i'm aware that a whole ton of people will deem this as ooc but, heck, i've come to despise the fanon furihata, to which i also contributed. while this collection may not be enough as atonement, i just want to move beyond the 'furihata shaking like a leaf and jizzing his jeans before the almighty emperor' phase that many akafuri fans have. so, yeah, i guess that this is what i envision them to be._

_1\. ficlets won't be in chronological order._

_2\. collection also entitled: "why the fuck are you starting another multi-chaptered fic sui you've just updated the other one after 2 months"_


	2. Chapter 2

_don't look at me omg i dunno how to write porn so here you go_

* * *

**day twenty: own kink **(skipping ahead because yes)

* * *

**[giddy up.]**

* * *

Akashi is willing to overlook the minutia, but Furihata should know by now that if there's only one thing that Akashi would never disregard, it's _this._ Stunned, he presses his knees further into the dip of the mattress, spine sharp and curving. There's this lovely arch that Akashi traces with a cold, smooth finger, and Furihata's whimper turns into something even more unintelligible.

"I'm impressed," Akashi remarks, savoring the pale expanse of skin at the tip of his hands. His touch is fleeting but fond; the more he lets his palms roam Furihata's shoulders, waist, limbs, thighs-the more difficult it is for Furihata to resist leaning in.

He doesn't need to do much. Akashi's pulling on the reins occasionally, and Furihata's body submits to the weak force. What concerns him the most is the ball gag that delves deeper into the cavern of his mouth. Furihata's a little embarrassed at the thought of his saliva dribbling down his chin and onto the mattress, which creaks when Akashi shifts and transfers the reins into his other hand.

It's funny, though-Furihata leisurely drags his tongue around the gag, traces its contours, and wishes for it to suffocate him, to colonize his throat until it's too raw, to make his voice so hoarse that when he screams it's out of animalistic fashion. While Akashi bids his time to build up the momentum, Furihata is left with his own devices. Rutting is already out of the question; he would still want to be praised by Akashi for what little self-restraint he still has.

"Good boy." Akashi hovers over his exposed back, brushing his lips against his neck and moving up to the shell of his ear to languidly lick and provide a bit of warmth. "You've been doing well so far," Akashi exhales, tugging on the reins to sharpen Furihata's curvature.

When encouragement equates to arousal, Furihata can sense his cock straining more against his stomach, painting pre-cum all over skin that already has a clear sheen of sweat. He tries to thrust forward-any friction would do, because he's so close except he's not quite there yet.

Akashi moves behind him and caresses his thighs. Sometimes, he teases by 'accidentally' touching Furihata's groin, and Furihata's breaths only become more erratic. He leans into Akashi's fingers, wanting for them to wrap around his cock and milk him dry, to travel along his slit with scraping nails, to cup his balls and hold them almost painfully, to prod inside of him with reckless abandon.

"Patience, love," Akashi is red-faced and hard when he peppers kisses along Furihata's back, pausing along the crease of his ass but obviously on the brink of giving in. Akashi experimentally bites the left cheek, and he suppresses a pleased sound in the back of his throat when Furihata gasps and falls forward. He tightens the reins around his right hand and uses the other to press on Furihata's ass.

Akashi's tongue darts out to wet his lips. "It's inviting me, Kouki," he says almost breathlessly, bending so he can eye the twitching hole more carefully. It's pink and begging to be filled. "Should I taste it?"

Furihata only lifts his hips and spreads his legs in response, already unable to form coherent statements with the obtrusive gag and the heat pooling at the base of his stomach.

Akashi is swift when he tugs on the leather reins and relishes in the tightness of Furihata's hole. Furihata gasps, broken, and instinctively clenches his muscles. The sensation of having a careful finger crooked up in him is different altogether—when Akashi swipes his tongue across his entrance, Furihata decides that he wouldn't want to trade the slickness and heat for anything else. Akashi attempts to force his way deeper, and when he curves the tip of his tongue upward, Furihata arches on his own accord. Akashi has to increase his grip on the reins.

For a moment, Akashi disconnects from Furihata and touches his fingers to his lips, breaking a thin line of saliva originating from Furihata's insides.

Furihata nearly collapses, his cheeks inflamed and his cock still dripping and neglected.

"It's time for your dues," Akashi says, his voice already laced with primal need. He flips Furihata on his back and expresses his satisfaction upon seeing Furihata's pert nipples, heavy-lidded eyes, accommodating mouth, and fully-erect manhood. Even Furihata's legs are trembling from the desire to be taken. He unconsciously rubs his backside on the sheets, wanting something, _anything_ to breach his defenses and instigate his much-awaited release.

Akashi hums while working to remove the straps. He doesn't bother to hide his sounds of pleasure when he ruts against Furihata's thigh.

"Look. . .look at you," he smiles, crawling like a predator with a damp forehead and the resolve to make Furihata crumble. "I should take you horseback-riding sometime. Perhaps you'll think of this when you mount the stallion I've been meaning to show you."

The ball gag finally rolls away from Furihata's mouth when Akashi loosens the straps. Furihata heaves, squirming beneath Akashi as he undulates his hips to find a suitable pressure.

"Then teach me," Furihata says, still panting. Akashi lets the reins fall to Furihata's sides, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise and excitement.

"Oh?"

Furihata offers a smile of his own, mind still hazy from his drive. He props himself up on his elbows and wraps his legs around Akashi, crossing his ankles for leverage.

There's no time for Akashi to react when Furihata switches their positions. Both of Furihata's knees are framing Akashi's hips, and Furihata situates his palms on Akashi's firm abdomen. He indulges in rolling his hips once to share his precum with Akashi's cock.

It's not enough to relieve the both of them, anyway.

Furihata's gaze is sultry when he brings his fingers to his mouth, generously lapping up the sweat on his own skin. When he deems the wetness on his fingertips enough, he reaches back into his hole and positions himself over Akashi's nether regions. His moans are unrestricted when he pumps his fingers through himself, his dick slapping against his stomach and smearing it with his pre-cum.

Akashi's breath hitches when Furihata slowly, agonizingly lowers himself.

* * *

"Teach me, Sei. . .teach me how to ride."


	3. Chapter 3

day 16: in public place

* * *

**[multi-tasking]**

Furihata admits that Akashi Seijuuro is entirely professional in matters that concern his company and more; he speaks in a manner that immediately earns him high regard from peers and trading partners alike, and god knows how easy it is to fall into his schemes or be persuaded by his tasteful charms. He's well-mannered, well-dressed, well-_everything_, and Furihata doubts that he could pinpoint a single detail that would make Akashi blandly human.

When it comes to peculiar penchants, however, Furihata knows this:

Akashi Seijuuro absolutely enjoys playing footsie with Furihata's nether regions.

"_Sei,_" Furihata grits through his teeth, his palms going clammy at the first contact of Akashi's sock-clad foot. Even through the material of his slacks, he can tell that Akashi used the socks that Furihata gave him two Christmases ago, specifically the kind that slides easily against skin. Furihata attempts to shift to the side so he can avoid Akashi's plays. "We're having an executive meeting in _five minutes._"

Akashi has his hands clasped under his chin, and his amusement doesn't paint itself across his face as a sly grin. He only remarks, "I'm well aware of that, Kouki."

Biting his lip to refrain from whimpering (it doesn't help so much when his resolve doesn't have particularly strong communication with his dick), Furihata focuses on opening his folder as the members of the board come in. They acknowledge each other with simple nods, oblivious to Furihata's sweating spectacle. Akashi leans further back on his chair and poises his foot, swiping his toe over the protrusion in Furihata's slacks.

The meeting begins with Akashi calling things into order, his voice calm even when his mind is somewhere else. Furihata only hears the words _sales _and _increase _as he's too busy swallowing down the noises that threaten to escape his mouth. It's too unfair, he thinks, barely having the capacity to do so. A certain motion of Akashi's foot has him clenching his jaw so hard that he wouldn't be surprised if he'll dislocate something soon.

By the time Akashi has covered some changes in policies, Furihata's so sure that he'll lose it, that he could probably allow himself to moan just to relieve the building frustration. He wills himself to focus on the presentation, to clamp his legs tighter to curb the arousal.

One of the board members cocks his head towards Furihata's direction, frowning at the distressed expression on Furihata's face. Furihata exhales shakily. "Furihata-san, are you okay?"

Akashi pauses and sets his papers down as he waits for Furihata's response. The brunet vehemently nods. "I'm fine. Please-do proceed with the presentation."

He retrieves a water bottle from his right-_Evian, _he notes, typical of Akashi-and silently drinks, hoping that the coolness would at least return his inflamed cheeks to their normal color. Akashi resumes with his discussion of some plights in one of the divisions, and as collected as he seems, his foot seems too eager to start working Furihata up again.

"We'll have a five-minute break," Akashi declares, straightening his back as the other members bow and take their leave. He turns to Furihata, who has his mouth open and his eyes glazed. "Kouki, I'm surprised that you've held out for so long."

Furihata doesn't stifle a gasp when Akashi starts toeing his slit with utmost precision that it's almost unbelievable how Akashi managed to find that one exact spot that has him hanging on for dear life. His knuckles turn white as he clutches onto the armrests. "_Sei. _It's not-_ah-_fair."

"I don't think I'm the only one who's enjoying this," Akashi says, his eyes flashing with satisfaction. "You seem to be more responsive than ever."

"Not-" Furihata retorts only for his statement to be cut off by an unnecessary whine, one which makes Akashi smile appreciatively. "Not my fault, when you're doing this to me."

Akashi doesn't answer as he twists his foot with the right amount of pressure, and Furihata has to brace himself against the table when he comes, the moment too quick yet blinding. As the tingling sensation ebbs away, he breathes, his face buried under his arms as his legs feel numb. Akashi hums as Furihata realizes that his slacks would noticeably have a wet patch on the front soon.

Twisting his wrist to look at his watch, Akashi says, "You've got two minutes to regain your composure before the meeting resumes."

Furihata, with his cheek pressed to the table, mumbles, "You're mean."

"I try to please you," Akashi laughs a little, reclining in his chair comfortably. Furihata still hasn't wiped the sweat off of his brows when the door swings open to reveal the members. Akashi blinks in surprise when Furihata ducks under the table, his hands situated on Akashi's knees.

From this distance, the members can't hear them still. "Kouki," Akashi murmurs, "the meeting is beginning soon."

The members of the board approach with smiles on their faces and the aroma of newly-brewed coffee stuck to their coats. Akashi inhales sharply when he feels Furihata's nimble fingers find the zipper of his trousers and silently tug it down.

Maintaining a neutral expression, Akashi says, "I hope that you've made the most out of the short break."

One of the directors briefly glances at Furihata's empty seat before saying, "Hasn't Furihata-san returned?"

"He's," Akashi pauses, exhaling as he senses Furihata reach into his boxers and wrap a hand around his cock, slowly pumping it. "He had to run some errands."

Meanwhile, Furihata grins under the table, whispering, _payback time, _as he deep-throats Akashi in one go.

His tongue flicks haphazardly in satisfaction at the sound that Akashi couldn't bear to suppress.

.

.

Akashi knows this:

A certain Furihata Kouki can damn well prove that two can play his game.

(Not that he doesn't like it;

he absolutely,

maddeningly does.)


End file.
